


A Promise That Can't Be Kept

by eatsnightlockforbreakfast



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Catching Fire AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1354453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatsnightlockforbreakfast/pseuds/eatsnightlockforbreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything that Peeta told Caesar was a lie. A Catching Fire AU written for Prompts in Panem March 2014 Day Four: Hyacinth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise That Can't Be Kept

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done a few times, I know, but I've never read exactly what I wanted out of this plot. So I decided to give a go at it.

"I don't want to go downstairs today," I tell Peeta as he walks into my room.

"Oh," he stops short, "all right." He looks back to the door and then to me again. "Do you want-"

"Stay," I interrupt, "please stay."

He nods. "I'll stay."

I scoot over a bit and pat the space beside me. Mom and Prim are gone today, helping a mother in the Seam take care of her sick child. There's no point in making Peeta carry me up and down the stairs without them there to visit. My room is just fine for the two of us. When he settles in beside me I pull his hand onto my lap, trace my fingers over his upturned palm.

A few moments pass before he asks me, "Are you okay, Katniss?"

 _No._  I'm never okay, and he knows that. I'm not okay with what our lives have turned into, not okay with being used, not okay with Snow's threats hanging over my head, not okay with what I'm doing to Peeta. But he's not asking it like that. He's just asking if it's worse than usual.

It's not. "Yeah," I nod and shoot him a small smile, "I'm fine."

A few moments pass and I can feel his eyes on me. "You're not telling me something."

I sigh. He's caught me. But I have no desire to talk about what I've been thinking, been  _feeling_ , all morning. Even the thought of it makes my mouth go dry. So I shake my head and focus on tracing the veins of his wrist into his hand.

Peeta waits, and I hate him for it. He doesn't push, but doesn't give up. He gives me my space, but makes his presence known. He knows exactly what he needs to do to make my walls crumble.

I try not to give in, I really do, but after a while the silence lets my thoughts grow so loud that I can't hold them in anymore. I look up at Peeta and scowl. "You don't play fair."

"What?" he chuckles. "I didn't do anything."

"But you did!" I insist, hitting his hand with the back of mine.

Peeta raises an eyebrow and smiles.  _Smirks_. And it infuriates me. "Then what did I do?"

"You  _looked_  at me!" I turn my body fully toward him.

His widen and his stupid long eyelashes briefly tangle together as he blinks. "What's wrong with looking at you?"

Looking away, I exhale. Why is this so hard for me? I drop his hand and wring mine together. "When you look at me," I start before pausing to search for my next words, "I feel like, I feel like you can see right into me. That you look and know exactly how to get to me."

Quiet again. I don't look at him, don't say anything else.

"I don't," finally he speaks. "I try. I want to... But I don't think that I really can unless you let me, Katniss."

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want to talk about this. But we have to talk about this. We'll both go insane if we don't. "Peeta," I swallow and open my eyes, "that's the thing. I  _do_  let you. I... I  _want_ you to get to me." I look at him then, feeling so vulnerable and absolutely hating it.

And he is shocked, he is confused. "You...what?"

I gather up all my courage and look him in the eye when I talk. "I want to let you get to me Peeta. I want you to know me. To understand me."

"Why?" he breathes. Which is a very understandable question. Other than Prim, I've never let anyone in before. I've never wanted to.

"You make me so confused, Peeta," I tell him, and then the thoughts start pouring out. "I see you and my stomach aches, like I'm hungry, but I'm not. I look at you and I want to know you. While you've been drawing in the Plant Book, I've been trying to ingrain your face into my brain. Because everything you are and everything you do are so beautiful. I think you're beautiful and I don't know  _why._ And I hate it when you're sad, and I  _hate_ that I am so often the cause of your sadness. I don't want you to be sad, Peeta. You deserve so much happiness. You...you're a light in this world full of horrible, dark things," I pause and take a shaky breath. "And I feel safe with you. I hate it when you leave every night because I know I won't be okay again until you come back. I look forward to you carrying me every morning because being in your arms washes away the nightmares. Like in the train," I shake my head. "No one else can do that, Peeta."

He waits a few moments to make sure I'm done speaking before caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. I close my eyes and lean into his touch. I am drained and scared and so confused. I can't remember the last time I talked for so long without stopping.

"Katniss," Peeta says my name like a question, and so I open my eyes for him. I open everything I have to him.

"I feel all of this," I say, "and it scares me to death. I don't know what to do."

"Why are you scared? I care for you so much, Katniss. I will never hurt you," he looks at me so adoringly, but still trying not to hope too much. I hate what I've done to him, that I've caused him to doubt my every move.

"I know, Peeta, I know," the only choice I'm left with to make him see, make him understand, make him  _believe,_  is to strip myself down and raw. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. In the arena I was reacting, every single thing I did was to survive. This is the opposite of that. This goes against every single survival instinct I have. "I'm scared because I care for you too. I care for you so much that if anything were to ever  _happen_ to you," I shake my head, the thought unbearable, "I know, I  _know_  that I would shut down. Just like my mother, and I never ever wanted to be that person."

Peeta brings his other hand up to cradle my face. "You're so much stronger than her Katniss. But I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to keep myself safe. I'll make sure that nothing ever  _happens_  to me."

"You can't promise that."

"But I can," he smiles, "and I am." He brushes his thumb under my eye to wipe away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen.

We just stare at each other for a while, and he looks so happy that I can't help but smile with him.

"It'll be okay, Katniss," he assures me. "You deserve to be happy too." And I allow myself to believe it. Peeta and I can be happy. We can be happy  _together_.

I do something brave again. "Can I kiss you?"

At first he looks at me with disbelief, but then his face lights up and he nods. "Yes, of course. You don't have to ask."

He drops his hands so I move closer to him and sit up on my knees. "But for real. Just for you and me."

"You still don't have to ask," he whispers as I lean in.

"Okay," I whisper back and smile. Then I close my eyes and press my lips to his. And it's warm and sweet like it always is kissing Peeta, but this time it is  _ours._ Which makes it so much better. Even better than that one kiss in the cave that made me want another. Now I want that and so much more. And there is nothing stopping me.

My hands snake around his neck to grab the golden hair at the back of his head. Moving my head to the side sightly, I run my tongue across his bottom lip. Peeta lets out a small gasp at that, and whether it is of surprise or pleasure I don't know. I've never done that before; there was no need for us to make our kisses for the Capitol anything other than chaste. But Peeta only hesitates for a moment before he grabs my face in his warm, dry hands and kisses me in earnest.

We take our time with the kiss, testing each other out. Lips mold together, tongues sweep out and eventually brush together. And I find that I like it, I like it a lot.

I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is something entirely different.

At some point Peeta pulls me into his lap, his arms holding my torso flush against his. I revel in the closeness. I want to be completely wrapped up in this boy. I want him to consume me. I want to consume  _him_.

Soon kissing is not enough, and I begin to whimper. I want more, but I don't know exactly that is. I do know, though, that I'm on fire. And I'm ready to let it burn me. "Peeta," I breathe his name. He answers me with a moan and a caress of his tongue against mine. I shift in his lap to tilt my head the other way, and that's when I figure it out. I want  _him_ , the hardness underneath me, and I want it so much that there is no room for feeling scared or nervous.

Peeta gasps when I press against him again, deliberately this time. "Katniss, wha-" his words dissolve into a moan, one that causes his eyes to squeeze shut and his head to tilt back, when I press harder, grinding my hips into his. I decide that it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I want to make him look like that again and again.

Hips still moving, I lean in and place a kiss on his jaw before I run my tongue along the line of it. I nip where it curves and then drag my lips up to his ear. "Peeta," I gasp, "I want-I, I-" And I can't finish what I want to say because this feels so impossibly good that I can't help but moan. I press my face into Peeta's neck. I never knew that my body could feel so good.

Suddenly, he grabs my hips, stilling them. I'm about to voice my discontent at this when he gently pushes me back, so I fall flat on my bed, legs still loosely encircling his waist. He follows me down and rests on his elbows, hovering over me. "Tell me what you want, Katniss."

I respond instantly, "You."

His eyes narrow, cloudy with lust. But there is also a trace of hesitancy there. "But what do you want from me?" he demands.

I shake my head. He still doesn't understand, how can he not understand? "Peeta..." I reach up and stroke his cheek, his lips that are now swollen from our kisses. "Everything," I say. "I want everything."

He beams at me. "Oh, Katniss." And then his mouth is on mine and his hips pick up where mine left off and I can imagine nothing better.

I let my hands start to roam, unable to keep them still any longer. Down his chest and up his back. I move them back down again and slip my hands under his shirt, needing to feel his skin. His skin, so soft and warm. I pull back and push him away slightly so that I can get his shirt off.

Before I pull him back to me, I take the opportunity to admire him. I saw him shirtless during the games, but not like this. Then he was on the verge of dying and I wasn't really looking but now he's not and I  _am_. His chest is broad, smooth, and strong. His form narrows somewhat at his hips, and below his navel there's a trail of hair that leads into his pants. My eyes linger there for a moment, on the way that his erection is straining against his pants. Then I realize what I'm doing and force my eyes to his with a blush.

Peeta only smiles. "I don't care if you look at me."

My eyes widen. He'd said very similar words to me in the arena. I told him then that  _I_  cared if I saw him. I'm again reminded of how different things are. So I just say, "I know."

His eyes slowly descend from my face and down my body. He fingers the hem of my shirt and then looks to my eyes again, silently asking my permission.

Well, I reason, I took his shirt off. It's only fair. I nod my consent.

Oh so slowly, Peeta pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor just as I had done to his.

And again, as I had done, he looks at me. He does so with such awe and care that I don't even feel the urge to hide myself.

Resting his weight on one arm, Peeta trails his fingers up my side. I gasp when they ghost over my bra covered breast. He doesn't linger there, though (and I can't decide if I wish he had or not), but continues up the column of my neck, across my lips, and then back down to rest over my heart.

He looks into my eyes. "You're so beautiful, Katniss."

I smile a little and pull his hand to my mouth to kiss it. Then I place it back on my chest, albeit lower than he had had it. I decide that I like his hand there, so I tell him, "You can take it off too," I inhale and exhale. "If you want."

Peeta looks down at his hand cupping my breast with wide eyes, and then back to me nodding enthusiastically. "I want. Yes."

Grinning, I arch my back. "Go ahead."

It takes him several seconds to figure out the clasp, but he gets my bra off fairly quickly. It joins our other clothing on the floor.

I let him look again, but not for very long. I miss the feel of his lips on mine, and his hips had stopped moving when I pushed him away to take his shirt off. I hook my arms around his back and roll my hips into his. Then I pull him down to me, making our bare chests connect. I've never felt anything so wonderful before. I throw my head back and moan.

"Fuck, Katniss." He gasps. I've never heard Peeta swear before, but I like it. I like that I can make him do it.

Before I can comment on his word choice, he wedges one of his hands between us to cup my breast, stealing my breath. He brushes his thumb over the hardened peak and I arch into his touch.

He kisses my mouth then. Hard and wet. My jaw next, neck and collar bone too. And he lowers his head even more to brush his lips over the breast not in his hand. He kisses up the slope of it and takes my nipple into his mouth when he reaches the top.

I gasp as my back arches and my hands fist in his hair. "Peeta!"

He hums into my flesh, which only causes me to moan and squirm, and then flicks it with his tongue before pulling back. After moving his hand he takes the opposite peak into his mouth, this time sucking slightly. When he pulls away it makes a wet 'pop' sound.

Looking into my eyes, his excited and hungry, he settles himself between my legs again and nudges. My move.

I take a hand from his hair and drag it down his chest and stomach to the trail of hair into his pants. I stop at the waistband, and skim my fingers over the skin of his hips. Peeta shudders. I look up and grab the waistband. "I want to take these off."

"Uh, okay," he swallows and nods. "Okay."

His pants are grey and soft. They're lounge pants with no button or zipper for a day in. He's been wearing them a lot lately. As I pull them down the side of my hand brushes his erection and he gasps. I get them to his mid-thigh before Peeta takes over to get them all the way off. He tosses them to the side.

We look at each other.

"Katniss," he says, "what are we doing?"

"I don't know." And I don't. I just wanted to kiss him and now we're both nearly naked. "But I like it," I offer with a smile.

Peeta lets out a laugh. "Me too."

"Can you kiss me again?"

"Yes."

As we explore one another's mouths our hips automatically start to move again. One of my legs moves to wrap around his waist, to pull him closer. We become almost frantic.

After a minute or so Peeta pulls back, eyes wild. "Katniss," he pants.

"We should," I say breathlessly. "We should do it."

"You mean-"

"Yes," I interrupt. "I want to."

"Yeah?" he asks and runs a hand down my side to slip his thumb under the top of my shorts.

I look down at his hand. "Yeah."

He has both my shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion. As soon as they're tossed aside I tug down his boxers and he pulls them off, one last piece of clothing joining the pile.

I don't get to look for very long, but it's long enough for me to see that he's bigger than what I'd expected. But then again, I wasn't really expecting anything. The only naked men I've seen before this are the sickly coal miners that my mother has tried to help. And those were only brief glimpses. Nothing at all like this.

Then Peeta is hovering over me and I can't think anymore. There is nothing else but him.

"Do you, um..." Peeta starts to ask me something and then trails off. He looks at me curiously and then suddenly his hand is between my legs. "Oh fuck, you're so wet."

"Mmm..." I sigh and push into his hand.

His fingers press around, like he's searching for something, while he whispers in my ear. "You're so amazing, Katniss. You don't even know. I never thought, never thought this would happen. I am so happy. You make me-"

"Oh!" I gasp, pressing myself into his hand.

Peeta grins triumphantly. "There it is." And then he presses again, and again, and starts to rub hard circles around the same spot.

"Ahh!" I moan, loudest I have yet. I fist my hands in the sheets. Oh my god, oh my god,  _oh my god_. "Peeta!"

How can that feel so good? Why do I feel like I'll die if he stops rubbing that spot?

"Do you like that?" Peeta asks through labored breaths.

"Yes!" I cry. "Yes,  _oh_ , please. Peeta please," I beg. I don't know what I'm begging for, but I need it. I need Peeta- I need  _him_. "I want-  _ahh_. Peeta, I need you!"

Suddenly he stops and I whine. "You want to?" he asks me. "Now?"

"Yes," I say and pull his head down so I can kiss him. "Now."

So he takes himself in his hand and finds my entrance. I gasp as I feel him moving against me, hot and hard. When he's there he pauses and brings his eyes up to mine. Finding my hands with his he holds them sweetly on either side of my head. He smiles and presses his forehead to mine.

I smile back.

Then slowly, he eases his way into me. I try my best to stay relaxed, and it's really not all that bad. When his hips are flush with mine it's mostly just uncomfortable, like an intrusion. I squeeze Peeta's hands.

"Are you okay?" he gets out. It is obvious how hard it is for him to restrain himself, and my heart swells at the fact that he would go through that just to make sure I'm all right. Always putting me before himself.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "You can move."

"Good," he smiles a little and then he pulls his hips back before sinking back into me with a moan. He repeats this a few times and it's not so bad. I shift my hips a little. It's even kind of nice. Experimentally I push my hips up when he pushes down.

We both moan at that. I keep doing it, and soon we work out a rhythm together.

"You feel so good, Katniss," Peeta moans. "So good."

"Mmm," I keen in reply. I wrap my legs around his waist and cross my ankles together. The change in angle is...good. Very,  _very_  good.

"Oh, Peeta!" I cry and start to move my hips faster. He follows my pace easily.

Peeta groans into my neck and tears one of his hands away from mine. It goes down to where we're joined and he finds that spot again.

"Peeta!" I nearly scream. So good, so good, so  _good_. My legs tighten around him,  _everything_  tightens.

Squeezing my hand in his, Peeta groans. He pushes into me a couple more times before stilling. "Katniss, Katniss, Katniss," he chants my name, eyes screwed shut and mouth falling open. I feel a gush where he is buried inside of me.

And then everything stops, everything but Peeta's fingers, rubbing fast and hard.

The pleasure is mind numbing. It is all consuming. It's going up, up,  _up_ \- and then I shatter. I scream out Peeta's name and I shake and I have never felt so good or  _alive_ in my life. When I fall back to earth I open my eyes to find Peeta grinning at me.

"Wow," he says.

"Wow," I agree.

xXx

I sit closely to Peeta on my couch as we watch the Capitol ooh and ahh over me in wedding dresses on the television. I am disgusted that this is mandatory viewing. Even though Peeta and I are together now, we do not appreciate that the Capitol is forcing us to wed. That should not be theirs to take from us. But we'll still do it. It's the only way to keep the ones we love safe.

After all of the photos are shown, Caesar announces that interested parties must cast their final vote by noon the following day. "Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" he shouts.

I sigh and Peeta rubs my shoulder. It is much easier to bare all this, as well as the threat of rebellion, with him at my side. Now he not only comforts me emotionally, but physically too. And the physical comfort he provides is always welcome, even on a good day.

I'm about to turn off the t.v. when Caesar tells us to stay tuned for the other big event of the night. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"

"What are they going to do?" Prim asks. "It's still months away."

The three of us look to my mother. Her expression is solemn, distant. "It must be the reading of the card."

I take Peeta's hand. We have to mentor this year. We'll have to get to know the tributes from Twelve, we'll have to try to save them. It's not at all likely that we will save them. What extra horrible thing will be done to the tributes this year?

President Snow comes on screen followed by a young boy in a white suit holding a wooden box. He speaks of the Dark Days, the reasons for the Quarter Quells (to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion), and also of what happened during the previous Quarter Quells. When he gets to the second Quell, Mom tells us that she had a friend that went in that year, Maysilee Donner. Haymitch must have known her, that was the year he won.

Finally, he is ready to announce the twist in this year's Games. The little boy steps forward and opens the box, which contains several rows of yellow envelopes. Enough for centuries of Hunger Games. President Snow removes the card marked with a 75 and carefully opens it. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary," he reads, "as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Prim buries her face in her hands and Mom lets out a shriek. Peeta's arms stiffen around me.

What? Existing pool of victors?

Then it hits me. I'm the only female victor in District 12. I'm going back into the arena, and Peeta or Haymitch is coming with me.

I turn to Peeta and shake my head, he was about to speak. "No," I tell him and stand up.

_Get away, I need to get away._

"Kat-"

"No!" I yell. Then I bolt. Out of the house and towards the woods before I double back and end up in the cellar of one of the Victor's Village's empty houses. The fence is on. I can't escape.

 _No,_  I think,  _no, no, no._

xXx

The next day Peeta decided we were going to be careers. We don't talk unless we're training. I know that he wants to go in the arena with me. That he wants to protect me and die. That he wants to break his promise.

I am so angry at him.

I am so scared.

I've been sick a lot, as well, which has not helped with training. Peeta gets angry when I have to break to throw up. " _This_  is too hard for you, Katniss? You can't break to be sick in the arena!"

And I know it's the truth and that he's scared too, but it hurts. I hate it when he yells at me.

There are only a few days left before the reaping. I hope beyond hope that his name is called so that Haymitch can volunteer to take his place.

I sit in the living room talking with my mother. She is asking me questions about my health, trying to get to the bottom of why I've been throwing up so much lately. I don't have any other flu symptoms, and she is baffled.

"Are you sleeping?" she asks.

I give her a flat look. "Would you be?"

"Sorry," she mumbles and crosses something off of her list. "Are you on your monthly cycle? I've known a few girls that get sick during theirs"

"No," I shake my head. But the question gives me pause. I don't think... I play back the horrible past couple months. I actually haven't had my cycle in a while. I tell my mother this. "Do you think it's the stress?" I ask. "I know I didn't have it often before, because I didn't eat enough, but it's been pretty regular since the Games..." I trail off and then add with a huff, "And I've definitely been eating more than enough lately."

Mother stares at me for a moment. "Katniss," she looks at her clipboard, and when she speaks her voice is quiet, "have you and Peeta been together sexually?"

"Mom!" I say loudly, taken aback. "What kind of question is that?"

She doesn't look up. "Just answer me, Katniss."

"No," I say and cross my arms. Because I realize what she's getting at. And it can't be. It's impossible.

She glances at me briefly. "No you haven't or no you won't answer me?"

I can feel the tears coming on so I keep quiet. How could this have happened? I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them. "No," I whimper.

"Katniss?" I hear my mom ask. "Oh, Katniss. Oh, my baby." She moves from her chair across the room over to me and wraps her arms around my huddled form.

"Why?" I sob. "Why did we have to be so stupid?"

"I'm sorry," she pulls me to her. "I am so so sorry."

Never before have my mother's arms been so comforting, and I'm so distressed that I allow her to take the role that she neglected for so long. I need her.

"Is there a way?" I ask. "A way to know for sure?"

She gives me a test she'd ordered from the Capitol. She got a shipment so she could hand them out to Seam women. It's important to know if you're going to have another mouth to feed soon. Mom tells me to go into the bathroom, pee on the stick, and then bring it back out to her. She'll read the result, it comes up almost instantly.

I come out of the bathroom with tears rolling down my cheeks and hand her the stick. I close my eyes.

"It's positive."

xXx

I told Peeta the horrible news the next day. He probably took it worse than I did. He's been by my side ever since, and the apologizing still hasn't stopped. He also told me that if Haymitch's name was called he was going to volunteer. I knew nothing I could say would stop him, and so I just nodded. When Haymitch's name was in fact called at the reaping, my heart broke in every way possible.

We don't tell the other tributes. We act normal, well, as normal as we can. I don't trust most of them, and a lot of them are just crazy, but Haymitch says we need allies so we try to mingle. I took a liking to Beetee and Wiress from Three and Mags from Four. Haymitch and Peeta weren't very impressed. But Peeta was always better at making friends anyway.

We both received twelves for training scores, most likely to put targets on our backs. Peeta's painting of Rue and my mock hanging of Seneca were not exactly Capitol-friendly.

We spent our last day before the Games alone on the roof. We ate, we talked, we just were. And we kissed too. There was actually quite a bit of that and more.

I cried when Peeta started talking to my stomach, telling our baby how much its daddy loves it. He will never meet this child. If I die it'll go right along with me. And if he dies...

I don't want to think about it.

Last night I told him I love him. I love him so much and I hate him for it. He just held me and told me that he loves me too.

In my interview I took my final stand, with Cinna's help. When I spun in the wedding dress that Snow had told him to put me in, that he was forced to let out due to the slight swell of my stomach, it burnt up. It burned and revealed me a mockingjay, wings and all.

Peeta is on now. I don't know what he's planning. He wouldn't tell me. We never decided if we should talk about the baby. Caesar asks him how he felt when he found out about the Quarter Quell, and our wedding comes up. Peeta asks if Caesar and his friends can keep a secret. Then he tells him that we're already married. That we had a secret toasting, because that's the only way to make a marriage feel official in Twelve. Which is a lie. We were together, are together, but not married.

Caesar says that he's glad we had a few months of happiness together.

Peeta is not. He wishes that we had waited.

Caesar is shocked by this. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," Peeta says bitterly, and I know exactly what's coming, "if it weren't for the baby."

And like he's set off a bomb, the audience explodes. They are outraged. They sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, and crying out about injustice and cruelty.

I am crying again, and when Peeta comes back to his seat I can see that he is as well. He's made a last ditch effort to save us.

I don't think it will.

I stand as the anthem of Panem blasts, drowning out the chaos. I take Peeta's hand. I look to Chaff beside me and offer my hand. My fingers close around the stump of his arm.

And then all the victors are holding hands. One united line.

Then everything goes black.

xXx

The Games weren't stopped. Nothing can stop the Capitol.

Haymitch was furious that we didn't tell him about my condition. I was too tired and upset to care.

Effie was devastated. She told us how proud of us she is and how we deserve so much better, then she hugged us before leaving in a flurry of tears.

Peeta and I spent our last night of peace together. I don't think either of us slept very much. We had lain there quietly, my head on his chest and his hand on my stomach.

The arena has been total hell. I didn't want allies but we got them, five of them in fact.

Two are already dead.

There are only eight of us left: Brutus, Enobaria, Chaff, Finnick, Johanna, Beetee, Peeta, and myself.

We've decided to set up camp on the beach, presumably the safest place in the arena. The jungle is full of terrors. Blood rain, poison fog, monkey mutts, jabberjays, some kind of beast, and beside where we have set up camp on the ten-to-eleven-o'clock wave section, comes an unpleasant chorus of clicking. This spot should provide about twelve hours of safety.

While the others sleep, Peeta and I keep watch. We haven't had a moment alone in the arena, no chance for us to talk.

I'm stressed to the max. Peeta's almost died at least four times, and I haven't even kept count of how many times my life has been in danger. My mind is also still frazzled from spending an hour listening to the screams of those I love in the jabberjay section.

We sit facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his, him watching the jungle and me watching the water. After a while I rest my head on his shoulder and he strokes my hair.

"How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"Shaken up," I say, "but I guess okay as I can be. You?"

"All right," he says absently. It's quiet for a little while until he speaks again. "Katniss?"

I raise my head to meet his eyes.

He takes my hand. "You can't save me. You have to know that. I know that that's what you're trying to do and it needs to stop."

Frowning, I look down. I do not want to talk about this.

"It's not just you and me anymore Katniss," he reminds me. "You have to think of the baby."

I don't respond, trying to hold back my tears. He's right, I know he is, but I wish so badly that he wasn't.

"If you die, and I live, I won't have anything, Katniss. I'll be loosing both of you," I can hear the sadness in his voice, the strain of suppressed tears. "You can't do that to me."

A tear drops from my face to make a wet mark on my undershirt. "You can't die, Peeta. You promised me that you'd keep yourself safe." My voice is shaky. Weak. "You promised."

"I'm sorry," he says simply. "I shouldn't have." Then he takes my chin in his hand and pulls my face up to look at him. Tears roll down his cheeks, but he manages to give me a little smile. "At least you'll always have a part of me with you now," the hand holding my face moves down to rest on my stomach, "I won't really be gone."

A sob racks through my body. "I hate this, Peeta."

"I know." He brings his other hand up to stroke my hair. "I know, me too."

I want to stop thinking. I have to. So I do the only thing I can think to do. Shakily, I maneuver myself so that I'm in Peeta's lap. Taking his face between my hands I bring my mouth down to mold with his.

We comfort each other with our lips, holding one another close. It is passionate and it is tragic. It's probably the last kiss like this that either of us will ever have.

The sound of lightening crashing and Finnick's following yelp is what finally breaks us apart.

"I can't sleep anymore," he tells us. "One of you should rest." Then he notices the way that we are tangled together, notices how hopeless we must look. "Or both of you. I can watch alone."

"No," Peeta says pulling me off of his lap. He clears his throat. "It's too dangerous. I'm not tired anyway." Then he turns to me and speaks softly in a tone that I cannot refuse. "You should get some rest, Katniss," his eyes flit down to my belly. "You need it."

I let him lead me over to where the others are and lie down. Peeta kisses my forehead and his hand finds the spot where our baby is once more. "You're going to make a great mother, you know."

xXx

The Games ended in chaos. Everyone was split up. I should have died. Two people did die.

I blew up the arena.

A hovercraft belonging to District Thirteen got me out. It exists after all. They got Finnick and Beetee too.

But not Johanna. Not Enobaria. And not Peeta. The Capitol got them.

I screamed and clawed at Haymitch when he told me that.

But there is a revolution. And I'm its face, the Mockingjay.

There also is no District Twelve anymore. Fire bombed. But Gale got out in time, along with his family, Mom and Prim, and a few hundred others.

They've put me in the hospital ward of Thirteen, labeled me as mentally disoriented. I wish that Peeta were dead so the Capitol couldn't hurt him. I wish that I was dead too. But that would kill the baby as well, which against all odds is still alive, and I can't do that. I could never harm something that was a part of Peeta.

My nurse looks up from my stomach where she is rubbing some strange stick. An ultrasound she had called it. She smiles at me and tells me I'm having a baby girl.


End file.
